Early the nextmorning, with a fresh layer of snow blanketing the world outside, Sebastian stood by the window of his chamber, a steaming cup of tea in hand and a blanket draped loosely around his shoulders. Though his nose remained a little stuffy and a dull ache lingered behind his brow, the worst of his illness had passed and with it, the dreary weight that had kept him trapped not only in bed but in his own thoughts.
Today felt… lighter.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, the scent of burning oak curling into the room alongside the sharper eucalyptus from Miss Maddie’s salve. She’d left it for him two mornings ago, along with her own blend of tea and an oil she claimed would help him breathe better. He didn’t know if the remedies were to credit for his improvement, or if it was simply the memory of her voice, her hand brushing his as she passed him the steaming cup, the faint flush on her cheeks when their eyes met.
She had come without hesitation, walking into his chambers with tinctures, essential oils, and fresh herbal teas each day as if it posed no inconvenience. As if nursing him back to health was something she wanted to do.
No one has ever taken care of me like that.
Not personally, at least. Sure he’d been sick as a boy, but motherhad always sent his governess or the servants for help.
Maddie… ahem… Miss Madeleine was different. Special. Precious.
Sebastian sipped the tea. The taste was odd—earthy with something floral, not unpleasant but not quite to his usual preference. He’d finished every drop.
Outside, the estate grounds shimmered in the pale morning light, the snow transformed into a sea of silver. The frost on the glass windowpane sparkled like a thousand tiny stars, each one shaped delicately, intricately, uniquely. He ran a finger down the edge of the window, watching the fog recede slightly beneath his touch, and thought—strangely—of the way Maddie had smiled when he’d offered her a taste of his egg-flip the other night in the kitchen.
That’s what her eyes looked like, he realized, staring at the frostwork. Bright. Alive. Not pitying, not shocked. Just… amused. Warm.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since.
He’d never been a man prone to illness. Or to helplessness. But this cold had gripped him hard, rendering him a shell of himself for days. The fever had taken his appetite, the aches had stolen his sleep, and worst of all had been the sensation of futility. And yet… she’d stitched him back together with the golden threads of her heart.
Or so it felt at least.
But it was daring to presume that she’d felt the same.
Sebastian revisited their encounters. There was that time when Maddie had walked in, wrapped in her practical wool cloak, her hands full of unlikely treasures, and without making a fuss, had sat beside him. Not once had she looked at him as if he were a burden. Not once had she treated him with exaggerated gentleness. She’d simply existed in the space with him, quietly making things better. Propriety didn’t matter. Humanity did.
That’s how wonderful she was.
Now, as he took another sip and let the heat work its way into his chest, Sebastian exhaled slowly and let his gazedrift over the horizon. The morning had that peculiar stillness only snow could bring. Even the crows had quieted. The castle grounds lay silent, white-dusted and untouched.
He should go out.
The thought struck him with unexpected urgency. For the first time in days, the idea of dressing and stepping outside did not seem a chore. His body still ached, yes, but something inside him had shifted. He no longer felt dull and feverish.
Sebastian set the cup down and moved to the wardrobe. He dressed slowly, carefully. His muscles protested when he bent to pull on his boots, but he didn’t mind. When he finally straightened, wool coat buttoned, gloves in hand, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.
His reflection startled him.
There were dark circles beneath his eyes, the stubble on his jaw darker than usual, and he still looked paler than he’d like—but there was something else, too. Something steadier in his eyes. Something determined.
Outside the corridor, the castle remained hushed. Most of the staff were still below stairs, preparing for the day. He took the stairs down two at a time, ignoring the way his chest tightened slightly at the exertion. The door to the east wing opened with a creak, and he stepped out into the cold.
The wind hit him first, sharp and clean, biting through his coat with its icy fingers and pulling at his breath. But instead of retreating, Sebastian inhaled deeply, the pine-sweet scent of the woods mingling with smoke and earth. His lungs stung with it. Alive.
He made his way down the familiar path leading to the stables, each step crunching in the snow. The boots left a trail behind him, the only footprints in an otherwise pristine landscape.
And then he saw her.
Maddie.
She was crouched at the far end of the gardens, wrapped in thatsame dark-green cloak, her hair tucked beneath a knitted cap. She was tending to something at the base of a stone wall, her gloved fingers brushing frost off the stems of a hibernating plant. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about her posture or movement, and yet Sebastian stopped as though struck.
She hadn’t noticed him. That was what did it. That she moved so freely, so confidently, when she believed herself unseen. That she was out here at all, when she could have been warm in the kitchens.
He approached quietly, but not to startle her, only to delay the moment when she would look up. He didn’t know what his face would reveal. He didn’t trust himself not to reveal everything.
